


Sound

by fourfreedoms



Series: Sixteen Candles Series [2]
Category: Sixteen Candles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little follow-up to <i>Travels Like Lightning</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound

The woods are warm, dappled light shining through the trees. Sam has the slight tinge of a burn developing over her nose and high on her cheeks.

It’s the first day of summer after school let out. Jake’s got plans for University of Chicago in the fall, and Sam’s starting some crazy drama program in two weeks. They’d managed to escape all of his post-graduation breakfasts and luncheons and teas with relatives by heading out for a hike before 9 AM.

He loses Sam in the trees.

“Where are you?”

“Up ahead,” she calls back.

He sprints towards her voice and the trees end abruptly. An old rickety house stands in front of him, looking like a stiff wind could blow it over.

Sam stands in the doorway. “C’mon, let’s explore.”

“Jesus, Sam,” he says as he steps on the front porch, wondering if it’s going to break under his weight. “It looks like it’ll fall in on us.”

“Fraidy Cat.” She disappears into the darkened doorway. When he trails after her, he finds her shirt laid across the banister of the stairs, her panties resting up on the landing. He shakes his head and chases after, picking up a pink lacy bra, her cut-off jeans, and sneakers as he goes. The house creaks with every step.

Sun blinds him when he first walks into the room at the top of the stairs. Sam is laid out on the bare floor, naked. She shields her face from the sun with one freckled arm. Jake lays her clothes aside and shuffles out of his own. She spreads her thighs when he walks close, arms welcoming. There’s the picnic blanket stolen from his parent’s linen closet spread out beneath her.

He fits himself to her and slides in, sinking in slowly. She moans low in her throat, pert breasts brushing his bare chest as she arches underneath him. He’s afraid the house will break under their weight and he thrusts in shallowly, holding himself carefully above her. It’s frustrating—more of a tease than anything else, but the floor might fall in with anymore exertion.

“It’s okay, I trust its soundness,” she whispers and wraps her thighs tight around his hips. There is another meaning behind her words as she skims her hands down his back, grip tightening over his butt cheeks to draw him in close. He bends his head to kiss her, deep probing with his tongue as the light of the sun warms his shoulders, and his orgasm slowly builds in his belly.

The house won’t collapse. Neither will they.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have just compared Jake and Samantha's relationship to sex to a dilapidated house. What? John Hughes would be proud. And not...like try to kill me.


End file.
